Travel to South of Iran: Hidden Spots

I'm a lover of flight. It may be hard to believe, but I seek nothing beyond the flight itself; the destination is merely an excuse. On the other hand, the roads… When I'm on my way, I feel the road with all my being. It's as if this very journey on land gives meaning to flight.

Roads speak of the distance to the destination and reveal another face of travel. For me, roads are addictive; once I set foot on them, I no longer want to stop. Along the way, I have learned much from the roads, from the people on them, and from my fellow travelers. Roads are places where another dimension of humanity emerges... raw and unfiltered, like a drunken revelry.

But the roads of this land tell a different story. For years, I have wanted to write about them, sometimes even dedicating all my words to them. Writing about the roads of Iran feels like a father speaking of his daughter, or a king writing of his land with tears in his eyes. As if this soil belongs to me, as if I can freely praise it, travel through it, and shape my relationship with it however I wish.

For years, I have been experiencing and writing about another side of life and travel. This time, join me on a journey to the ancient south of Iran…

As you journey through the mountains, plains, and the dreamlike roads of Kashan, Isfahan, and Shiraz, you will truly grasp the meaning of the phrase "Iran, the land of four seasons." The astonishing diversity of nature across Iran is so vivid and profound that you may feel as though you’ve crossed the borders of several different countries in a single trip. This is a land of ancient civilization, the birthplace of early urban life in Mesopotamia, a nation that has long stood as a target for many covetous eyes, and yet, throughout all the up and downs of history, has remained steadfast and indivisible. It is this very resilience and unity that sets Iran apart as a unique destination for travelers from around the world.

I'm in love with mountains, plains, and the boundless sky. The purest moments of my life have unfolded beneath the open sky or atop the quiet peaks, places where one, distanced from the noise of the world and the dust of deception and bitterness, finds a rare kind of solitude. Iran is a land filled with these proud mountains. As I pass through them, I often find myself thinking: if only human life were long enough to spend years upon every one of these peaks.

This passage, though challenging, is for me a journey woven with love, reflection, and a deep, enduring connection.

As I pass through the timeless beauty of ancient Iran, here in the heart of the south, lying beside one of the coastal cave crevices, I find myself thinking, perhaps one cannot go any further than this. Whenever life grows still for a human being, they take to the road. Where words fall short, music begins; where speech no longer suffices, cinema takes over. Painting captures what the eye cannot see, and nature, when humankind ceases to create, emerges, offering refuge in its embrace.

Here, repetition holds no meaning. Even the sound of the waves carries a different tone each time. Light has the power to shift everything to reveal a new face of nature with every moment. And I, a soul weary of the ordinary and the monotonous, am drawn to it. For me, every second is distinct; my mind has woven the enigma of living in this way.

I am now awake; witness to the pristine and wondrous diversity of nature. The sun performs a matchless masterpiece. The type, intensity, and angle of its rays at each hour of the day transform everything. The images are in constant flux; the landscape reveals itself anew before my eyes in every moment. Contrast, color saturation, the shimmer of light, and the brightness of every natural element change by the minute. The sun does not create this spectacle alone, it paints with the help of the clouds.

The dense cracks in the stone remind me of human life. These fissures have formed over centuries, shaped by the constant battering of waves, hydraulic erosion, abrasion and scraping, and the subtle impacts of living beings. Likewise, a person stumbles many times along the path of life, endures its ups and downs, and then, from the depths of their defeats, after many years, gives birth to beauty. The marvels of nature emerge slowly over time and so too does the art of the human spirit, forged in the fire of persistent struggle.

With every step I take over these rocks and dangerous cracks, I feel a deeper connection to the mysterious bond between nature and human. Today, the wind and rain hit the cliffs with unusual force. The dry trees by the shore catch my attention... I find myself staring at them, lost in thought, not even noticing the rain.

The wind moves through the branches and creates a sound that feels like the voice of the world itself. It doesn’t just touch my ears, it touches something deeper inside. The leaves dance... not randomly, but with purpose, like a graceful performance in front of the eyes of creation. Their dance reminds me of moments in life that, even though they were uncertain, were full of meaning.

Water, with its softness and patience, shapes the rock... not by power, but by not giving up. It’s amazing how much it’s like a person. A person who, with patience and effort, gets through hard times, turns pain into wisdom, and makes something beautiful from their wounds. Water doesn’t just wear things down... it also builds, gives shape, gives meaning. And it doesn’t matter if it comes from the sky or the sea... it still shapes the stone.

At night, as I zip up the tent, everything feels calm. The sky opens above me, and the stars, seen through the little mesh window, quietly speak of something timeless. It’s as if each star is the memory of a heart that once burned, but still shines. And in that peaceful darkness, I realize: a person can be like a star too, still shining, even after one chapter of life has ended.

Homeland is a place I wish didn't mean anything to me. Here, facing the wide Persian Gulf, I think about someone inside me who never found words to say anything, someone who saw a lot, a child who lived in a sad planet, in a world that quickly taught them about racism and homeland. I have seen the sadness of my homeland and my people. Now, here I wonder if oil was a blessing or a curse?

Here, I feel something alive in me; a feeling of power, a feeling of owning. Have you ever felt this way? It's like no one can take it away from me. Maybe "power" and "owning" aren't the right words for this deep feeling, but they are the closest to what I want to say. It's like I have hugged this whole land; even when I am far away, there is still a feeling, like I can control its fate from far away. This feeling is deep inside me. I know this land's ups and downs; from behind the scenes, from the news. It's like I have touched the skin of this land with my soul; more than just being Persian.

This old and quiet land is going through days that are just small scratches compared to its big history. This is a place where enemies have never been able to stay so long.

This beautiful path is the way back from the rocky, cracked shores to the city. It’s the same path I once took on a dark night to reach the sea for the first time. A night so black and full of fear that sometimes it made me want to turn around. Doubt crept in, pulling me close to giving up. I kept asking myself: Is this really the way I have to take to find that beauty?

Life can feel the same. The road to our goals is often full of bumps and questions. Many times, it makes us stop and think about quitting. But sometimes, we don’t give in. We keep going. And when we finally arrive and look back, we realize that the fear and the darkness were part of the beauty of the journey.

There’s a deep connection between life and what we call "nature". Sometimes, that thought takes me to a quiet place inside myself. A place where I want to hold a camera, pause for a moment, and think about how to line up words in a way that lets someone else feel what I’ve felt in this life.

The waves seem hurt; it’s like they’re angrily crashing against the rocks. I love how their sound echoes through the rock corridors, a sound that feels full of life, breaking the world out of its dullness. It’s as if nothing can stop nature from doing what it does. This power is beyond anything humans can control. Even if people suddenly disappeared from the world, nature would go on, without pause. The waves would still crash against the rocks, just the same.

I’ve felt my emotions rise to their peak. I’ve lived through the deepest moments. I’ve released my endless feelings... wild, free, and impossible to hold back. They hit the rocks of my mind, shape them, guide my thoughts. That’s why even the decisions I make with my mind still carry the light and shadow of my emotions.

The shape of these rocks makes it feel like the sea keeps going after them, like the waves have hit a wall that keeps them from reaching the shore. And as I walk across them, I feel one of the richest moments of being alone with myself. Here, in this place, I understand what it means to need nothing... in the most complete and peaceful way.

On the edge of this faraway shore, where the Persian Gulf lies, I stand somewhere between the gray sky and turquoise sea. The gentle but determined waves caress my feet... what a touch! It awakens a sense of patriotism in me; as if they want to whisper a story that can only be heard in silence. Yellow and brown rocks, like ancient guardians of this land, have preserved stories of thousands of years, and I feel deeply connected to it all.

It's not that I've drawn borders in my mind for the world, given it names, and called it homeland... no; here, at the edge between land and sea, I feel my own boundaries fading. The water washes my feet from the borders I passed through and carries away parts of me, perhaps some of my soul too. The silence here isn't from the absence of sound, but a melody created by the harmony of waves, wind, and rocks; nature's symphony that soothes the soul. Thinking about it drives me, a lover of symphonies, wild.

This solitude isn't loneliness; it's joining something greater. In this moment, I'm not just a human facing the ocean; I'm part of this eternal scene; a small but meaningful dot in the endless painting of existence.

As I followed the coastal road, I reached a breathtaking view... a place they call "Lovers’ Pass." Standing on this cliff, I feel suspended between the sky and the sea. From up here, the line between water and sky disappears, just like the line between my thoughts and feelings in this pure moment. It reminds me of Preikestolen in Norway. I wonder is sea more beautiful or a fjord?

Below, the waves write and erase their eternal story on the shore. Up here, time feels different... like I’m standing in a slice of forever.

The turquoise blue of the Persian Gulf stretches out before me, the same blue that flows through the veins of this land’s history. The wind plays with my hair, the same wind that once filled the sails of old Persian ships.

Here on the southern coast, I feel closer to my roots. The cliffs, quiet witnesses of time, whisper secrets that only the heart can hear. I, small before this vastness, carry silence inside me like a precious treasure.

On Mokasar beach, between the dim sky and the endless waters of the Persian Gulf, I sit alone on a rock. It feels like nature has waited for centuries to shape this stone. just like it took centuries for this land to become what we now call Iran or Persia.

Here, where earth and sea quietly meet in a silent struggle, I feel like I'm part of an eternal scene, like I’ve captured a moment in a never-ending story.

I think about this land, how many times it has risen to greatness, and how many times it has been invaded. It’s a legendary place. A land I’ve always found hard to leave. Ancient, vast, and deeply free. A land that quickly wins the hearts of those who visit.

I think how this place is just like Iran... surrounded and protected, and every now and then, fresh clear water (like its people) washes over it all at once, like the spring cleaning before Nowruz. Here, the waves kiss the rocks again and again with a kind of stubborn love. Their sound, like music only the heart can hear, tells silent stories about this land.

In this beautiful solitude, the borders of my being seem to fade away. I just want to keep thinking about this land... and writing about it.

Here I stand firm, and in my thoughts, this land could have been the colorful Thailand, or the legendary India, or the burning sands of Arabia, or the dense forests of the Germany, or the lofty mountains of the United States; let me put it another way,

Iran is like a compressed file that, when opened, surprises you; as if it holds within it a gallery of various designs and colors. It's not only the diversity of its nature, but also the coexistence of various ethnicities in peace and tranquility in this land, that has turned this place into a wondrous land.

With disbelief, like a thirsty person who has reached the seashore and not moistened their lips, I must say this is the final breath of this journey...